I didn’t have any idea what that would feel like but found the idea intriguing.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” I said. “If that’s okay.”
“Sure. C’mon over.”
Exactly fifty-eight minutes later, I pulled my car into the driveway at Athena’s family home. Apparently folks in the valley had avoided the storm. The sun shone brightly overhead and I couldn’t find a drop of rain anywhere, or any sign that storm clouds had passed by.
Several children played on the beautifully manicured lawn with parents looking on. As I shifted the car into Park, I thought about what it would be like to live with so many siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles. Chaos, likely. Still, it might be fun. I’d never had the opportunity to find out. No, Grandma and I had pretty much settled into our quiet, comfortable routine.
Until lately.
Athena met me at the door of my car with a toddler on each hip. I laughed when I saw her. “Practicing for motherhood?”
She snorted. “I’d have to find a husband first, and so far that scene hasn’t been written.”
“It will be,” I said as I climbed out of the car. “But you won’t have the privilege of writing it yourself.”
“Well, I hope the Lord pencils in a great-looking guy with an amazing sense of humor,” she said. “Otherwise I might just stay single. I get enough family activity in this house as it is.”
Looking around at the crowd, I realized that being single in this environment was a far cry from being single at Worth Manor. Athena’s world was as far removed from mine as I could imagine, and yet we had so much in common, especially when it came to matters of the heart.
We paused long enough for me to meet everyone. This process took quite some time. At Athena’s house, you didn’t just stop to shake hands. You heard about Aunt Melina’s liver condition and cousin Leandro’s overnight stay in the county jail. You were given the details of the wrestling match her brother Niko had just won, and you always walked away with at least one recipe from Athena’s mother, Thera. When all of that was said and done, you were given something to eat. Then and only then could you sneak away for a few moments of privacy.
We eventually ended up in Athena’s bedroom, where she shooed a couple of youngsters off of the bed, then closed the door so we could talk.
“Tell me everything,” she said.
So I did. My stories ran together, none of them making much sense, even to my own ears. And I could tell from her wrinkled brow that Athena wasn’t getting much of this either. At the end, she stared at me, shaking her head.
“How do you do it, Kat?”
“Do what?”
“Your off-screen life is even more dramatic than your on-screen one . . . and that’s really saying something. I work hard to make your on-screen life pretty wacky.”
I groaned. “Don’t ask me. Just help me fix this. If you had written that phone call scene, how would you go about resolving it so the hero and heroine could live happily ever after?”
She paused, shaking her head. “I’m not sure. Give me a minute.” She rose from her bed and paced the room. “Maybe you could . . . no, that would never work.”
“What?”
“Well, have his parents read the article yet? For that matter, has Scott?”
“I don’t know.” A shiver ran down my spine. “I only know that it broke this morning and he’s not responding to my texts or voice mail. I’m thinking about leaving town.”
“Still building that hut in the Amazon?”
I sighed. “Rethinking that one after the storm this morning. Mosquitoes aren’t really my bag. Neither is thunder. Do you think it storms at the North Pole? Can you write a scene where I visit Santa and the elves?”
A look of concern passed over Athena’s face. “Kat, I don’t really write the upcoming scenes of your life. You . . . you do realize that, don’t you?”
“Well, yes. But sometimes I wish you could. That way I’d know what was coming. I’d know whether or not Scott would freak out and leave me because of this . . . this stupid Beverly Hillbillies story.”
“Why are you so afraid he’s going to leave? Don’t you think your fears are a little . . . irrational?”
I was unable to speak over the tightening sensation in my throat. “Isn’t that what guys do?” I finally managed, my voice barely a whisper. I felt the sting of tears. Frustrated, I brushed them away. No point in getting teary-eyed over this. Not again.
“Ah.” She sat back on the bed, her eyes narrowed into slits. “You’re afraid because your dad left that Scott’s going to do the same thing. And you think that if you don’t line up and walk straight, it will give him reason to take off.”
“Maybe.” A sense of relief passed over me as I realized she understood where I was coming from.
“Scott isn’t your dad, Kat,” she said. “And just so you know, men don’t always leave. Sometimes they stay put and raise happy families. And for the record, I won’t have to write that script for Scott. He’s got sticking power.”
“You think?” I gazed over at her, still not sure. “Because once he hears what my grandmother has done, he’s liable to think I’m not worth the trouble.”
“Well, you are a piece of work, that’s for sure.” Athena laughed. “But you’re worth it, Kat. You’re so worth it. And Scott, of all people, knows that your grandmother isn’t well. He’s going to forgive her for this.”
“I doubt his father ever will.”
“He will, if he realizes this was all a mistake. You’ll have to be really careful from now on, though, Kat.”
“Careful?”
“About the paparazzi.” Her brow knotted. “I have a feeling they’re going to have a heyday with this one. And they’re not going to play by the rules. You know how tricky they are. They use their cell phones or hidden cameras to snag photos of you, then sell them to the gossip rags. So be careful, okay?”
“If I wasn’t paranoid before, I sure am now.”
“Sorry.” She shrugged. “I’m not trying to get you all worked up. Just want you to be safe. And I’m sure Rex wouldn’t be thrilled if pictures from inside the studio hit the internet or something. You know? He’s really a private sort of guy.”
“Humph.” I thought again of the letters he’d written my grandmother. She’d kept them buried for over fifty years. For whatever reason, she had kept their relationship private. I thought about the way they’d been signed: “Your Sweetheart.” Pretty vague, even back then.
I stayed at Athena’s well past dinnertime, reluctantly agreeing to have a meal with them before leaving. As always, her mother stuffed me full of all sorts of goodies, most of which I ate only at their home. In fact, half of it I couldn’t even pronounce.
When I got into my car to head home, I checked my cell phone, curious to see if Scott had responded. He had not. And I was surprised to see I’d somehow missed a call from my grandmother. I called back as quickly as I could.
She picked up on the third ring. “KK, I’ve been worried about you. Carolina said you would be back by five, and it’s nearly eight o’clock. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, I spent the afternoon with Athena. We had a nice visit.”
“Oh, I love nice visits,” she said. “I’ve had so many over the years. Burt Reynolds came for a visit while you were gone, and he brought that pretty young actress Sally Field with him.”
I pushed back the groan that attempted to rise. “Well, I’m sure you had a lovely time.”
“We did. He tells me they’re making a movie together. Something with the word Bandit in it. I can’t remember right now what he said exactly. I’m still a little tired from my nap.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Smokey and the Bandit had been released in the late ’70s. It would only confuse her more. Still, there was something I needed to talk with her about, and the sooner the better.
“Grandma, when I get home, can we have a talk?”
“Oh, I’d like that, KK. Should I ma
ke some tea?”
“Sure. That sounds great.”
“You can tell me everything that you and Athena decided about the wedding. I’m sure you came up with some lovely ideas.”
I spent the drive in prayer. Whatever I said needed to be carefully thought out, and there was really only one way to accomplish that. I had to ask the Lord for his words over this situation. In spite of her medication, my grandmother’s condition was undeniably shaky. And yet she seemed blissfully happy. Would sharing the truth injure her in any way? I decided that was a chance I was just going to have to take. I couldn’t risk any more conversations with the paparazzi.
When I arrived at the house, I found her dressed in a fabulous robe. She had apparently been waiting for me. The silver tea service glistened under the glow of the lamp above the small table in the great room.
“Hope you’re thirsty!” she said. Grandma poured tiny glasses of tea, adding lumps of sugar and an abundance of cream.
We settled onto the sofa next to each other, and I racked my brain to figure out a way to transition into the conversation I planned to have with her.
“I do love high tea,” she said after taking a little sip. “Makes one feel like royalty. Of course, being a royal does have its downside.” Her smile immediately faded. “So sad, what happened to Grace Kelly. Did you read about it in the paper, honey? I understand there’s been an accident. Every tabloid in town is carrying the story.”
I decided to dovetail into the necessary conversation using this as a segue. “The paparazzi can be vicious, can’t they?”
“I’ll say.” She took a sip of her tea. “They’ve had me for lunch a time or two, and I don’t mean at the Wilshire.” She giggled, and I drew in a deep breath, prepared to forge ahead.
“That’s what I want to talk to you about, Grandma,” I said. “About staying away from the paparazzi, not giving them any personal information.”
“O-oh?” She suddenly looked nervous. The teacup in her hand began to shake. “Have I done something to upset you, KK?”
“Grandma, did you by any chance talk to a man at The Scoop?”
A look of relief passed over her. “Oh, is that all. Yes, honey. They called and I answered. It’s the polite thing to do, to pick up the phone when it rings.”
“Yes, but we’ve talked about this before. Sometimes the person on the other end of the line isn’t a friend. Sometimes he’s just a reporter out to get a story.”
She grinned. “But that’s the delightful part. We have a story. You’re getting married.”
“No, Grandma.”
“W-what?” She looked at me, confusion registering in her eyes.
“No, it’s a big misunderstanding. I’m not getting married . . . at all.”
“Of course you are, sweet girl,” she said. “I was there when Jack proposed. Lots of other people were too. Why, the whole room was filled with witnesses.” A concerned look came over her. “Is he trying to weasel out of it now that he’s made his offer of marriage? Has that father of his talked him out of it or something?” The creases between her brows deepened and her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you dare let anyone talk you out of marrying the man you love, KK. You hear me? You will regret it for the rest of your life.”
Alrighty then.
I nodded, unsure of how to get this train back on track. “Grandma, you’re not understanding,” I said at last. “I’m trying to say that it’s all a part of the show. That’s all.”
I could read the relief in her eyes. “Well, of course it’s part of the show, honey.” She chuckled. “The show’s the thing, remember? If I don’t know that after living in Hollywood for so long, then I’ve learned nothing at all.” She turned to me, confusion registering in her eyes. “Where is Jack, anyway? He said he was going to fix the latch on my front door.”
“No, that was his—” I started to say “dad” but stopped short. Arguing with her wasn’t going to make things any better.
“Such a nice boy. And great muscles. He really eats his spinach, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, but Grandma, I need to talk to you about something else. Something important.”
“Oh?”
“I need to know what you told that man at The Scoop.”
“Oh, The Scoop is such a lovely magazine. Such interesting pictures too. My old friend Ted Holliday works there. Great guy. Why, back in my day, he came around pretty often to take pictures of me.”
“And he’s the one you talked to about my wedding?”
“Yes, KK. He’s the best reporter they have on staff.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I think I told him . . .” She paused. “Oh yes. I told him that you and Jack are going to have a beautiful reception in the gardens, and that we’re going to renovate the house in preparation. Told him the house is going to be even prettier than the last time he saw it, back in ’68.”
“And did you mention Jack’s parents?”
“Hmm.” She paused and appeared to be thinking. “I recall saying something about the small town they’re from. You know, I really like them, KK. I can see now why Jack turned out as he did. Such a godly young man. It’s the influence of his mother. Don’t you think she’s a peach?”
“Yes.” I counted to three under my breath then forged ahead. “Grandma, did you by any chance say something to the reporter about our swimming pool?”
“Our swimming pool?” The creases between her brows deepened. “Well, yes. I told him that you and I made a little joke about the Clampetts coming to town when we put on our Elly May bathing suits and swam in the cement pond.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “Oh, is that why you’re upset with me? Was that information too personal? Are you afraid Ted will ask for a picture of you in a bathing suit or something?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Did you lead him to believe that Scott’s parents are in any way like the Beverly Hillbillies?”
“Scott?” Her brow wrinkled. “Who’s Scott?”
I counted to three once again and whispered, “Jack. Did you tell him that Jack’s parents are the Clampetts?”
She pressed a hand to her chest, a shocked look registering. “For heaven’s sake. Jack’s last name is Clampett? I could have sworn his parents were named Murphy or something like that.” She chortled. “There I go, getting all mixed up again. I’ll tell you what, KK. When you’re my age, sometimes things get a little fuzzy.”
At my age, sometimes things got a little fuzzy too. Like right now, for instance. And in this Lenora Worth–induced fog, I could barely see beyond the next bend. She rambled on and on about how my married name would be Clampett after I married Jack, but I refused to listen. Enough was enough already. I had to figure out a way to wind her down.
With that in mind, I suggested we watch a movie together. She opted for Two Mules for Sister Sara, going on and on about how much she loved Shirley MacLaine in this role. I didn’t mind, really. My thoughts were elsewhere.
Thankfully Grandma dozed off about halfway into the movie. I found my eyes growing heavy as well. After helping her into bed, I moved to my room, exhaustion leading the way. As I pulled back the covers on my bed, I thought about Scott, wondering why he hadn’t responded to my voice mail or text messages. Surely he’d read the story. Maybe he was so mad he couldn’t make himself call me. Maybe he would never call again. Then what would I do? How would the show go on if the leading lady and leading man weren’t speaking?
If I’d been writing the questions to end this particularly melodramatic scene in my life, they would have gone something like this:
“Will Scott forgive Kat and her grandmother for ruining his life?”
“Will his parents hightail it out of Beverly Hills permanently, never to speak to Kat again?”
“Will the media take this story and run with it, creating trouble for the Murphy family back home in Alma?”
And finally, “Will Kat ever figure out how to face the storms of life head-on, without wanting to curl up in a ball in th
e corner?”
I couldn’t answer the first three questions, of course. But I had the final one down pat. I curled up on the bed in a fetal position . . . and cried myself to sleep.
17
Step by Step
Monday morning dawned bright and sunny. I squinted at the ribbons of light slipping through my curtains, wishing I could sleep in. On the other hand, the sooner I got to the studio, the sooner I could find out if Scott was upset. I just needed to get this over with . . . for both of our sakes.
I found my grandmother dressed in a gown I’d never seen before. The white glittery dress took my breath away. She looked lovely.
“Who are we today, Grandma?” I asked as we climbed into the Pink Lady.
“Barbara Stanwyck. Christmas in Connecticut. 1945.” She fussed with her combs, and I noticed for the first time they were Christmas-themed. In fact, so was her jewelry. I’d never seen snowflake earrings before. I had to give it to her, though. They looked great with the winter-white dress. And I especially loved the fur trimming around the wrists and neckline. A little odd in the middle of summer, though, especially with the temps soaring higher than usual.
“Let’s stop and pick up a copy of The Scoop on the way, KK,” Grandma said. “I want to see if the police ever figured out what caused Grace Kelly’s accident. She died in Monte Carlo, you know. Did I tell you that already?”
I released a breath. “You told me that she had passed away, but you didn’t mention the details. I’m so sorry, Grandma. I know what a great person she was and how much you loved her.”
“Oh, everyone loved Grace. What a tragic end to such a beautiful life.” My grandmother dabbed at her eyes. “Heartbreaking.”
“Definitely.”
“The Scoop will carry the story. Ted is always the first to report the news. He’s so good at what he does.”
“Yes, those folks at The Scoop are definitely good at what they do.” Still, the last thing on the planet I wanted to do was to pick up a copy of any magazine today, but I couldn’t figure out how to avoid it. Once Grandma made up her mind to do something, she did it.